It's the Heat AND Humidity

There are people who not only endure but actually claim to prefer hot and humid weather. I know; I’ve met them. They’re insane. The old canard “It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity” is a grand false duality — it’s both the heat and the humidity. They work together in a satanic climatic symphony of punishment that drains the pores and sears the skin, empties the soul of desire and the mind of sense. It’s no wonder that the medieval notion of eternal Hell is an imagined inferno of fire and brimstone; if the sauna had been invented back then, no doubt our image would be one of steaming heat and humidity, perhaps still with a pitchfork thrown in to accentuate the agony.

Several years ago I spent six weeks teaching in the mountain jungles of Belize, an experience that set the bar for my tolerance of sweltering torture. I wrote in one of my first email reports:

Heat is the operative word here. That and humidity. Both are in the 90s every day. I’ve not been able to acclimate and can’t go out for more than just a few minutes without being drenched in sweat. I take showers and change my clothes 2-3 times a day and drink at least a gallon of water a day. Oppressive, stifling, horrific are words I find myself using often.

There was a window air conditioner in my tiny apartment, but it could never get the room much below 82-85 degrees. Any afternoon you would find me sprawled naked across my bed, reading or grading papers, next to the insufficient air conditioner, a large floor fan turned to high at the foot of the bed. I had many positive experiences in Belize, but they are all warped by the omnipresent sun and steam that remains the overarching memory of my stay.

So I’m thankful today, as the temperature outside is 92 and heat index is 102, to be sitting comfortably in a relatively large house with a capable air conditioner, the temperature in the room at 76. And I don’t have to go outside, so I’m not. And we’re having gazpacho and a garden salad for dinner tonight.